Trip's Bad Day
by Blaze the Bad
Summary: Reposted. Trip has a day that goes from bad to worse.


**Author's Note:** Decided to repost this because, well, it wasn't written in C/S format to begin with. Hehe, my bad. Don't really remember what I wrote here the last time. Anyway, I wrote this at work one day when I was forced to cover for the receptionist so I looked like I was working. This is a one-shot deal and unfortunately, I wasn't inspired to write more Enterprise fiction. I hope everybody likes it.

* * *

Cmdr. "Trip" Tucker awoke with a start. He had been dreaming about something pleasant but, now that he was awake, he couldn't remember exactly what it was. He snuggled back into the nest of pillows and blankets, intent on recapturing the elusive dream. Before drifting off, his eyes opened of their own volition, focusing for a brief second on the chronometer by his bunk. He bolted upright, a sickening knot developing in the pit of his stomach. He lurched out of bed, tangling his legs in the blankets and almost whacking his head on a table. He managed to catch himself before causing physical damage and extricated himself from the bedding.

There he stood, late for his shift, his mind so overwhelmed with the tasks required to make himself presentable he couldn't decide what to do first. After a moment habit kicked in: Shower, pee, teeth, shave, dress, breakfast.

Trip stepped into the shower and reached for the soap. His hand closed over empty air.

"What! No soap! Great! Maybe shampoo will work."

He reached for the bottle, "What! No shampoo either! Great!"

He stepped from the stall and dried off, thinking, "That was a complete waste of the time I don't have."

He brushed his teeth and peed without incident. "Things are looking up," he thought.

He grabbed his razor and started to shave. He had only made a few passes when it emitted an odd whining sound and stopped. "NO, dang it!" He tried shaking it, smacking it, wiggling what pieces he could reach but, though nothing seemed wrong with it, it wouldn't work.

"Time to survey the damage," he sighed as he gave up trying to coax the razor into working. He looked in the mirror to see the lower half of his face covered in stubble with the exception of a large patch of shaved skin on the right side. "I look like I've got mange or something. Well, as dumb as it looks, it'll have to do til this !#$$ contraption gets fixed."

Trip stormed back into his quarters to dress. Reaching for a clean uniform, he pulled out a hanger. "What the…!" By now he just wanted to give up but he had a job to do so he started looking around to find something, anything, to wear. There was just his uniform from yesterday, lying in a crumpled up ball in the corner where he had thrown it last night. He picked it up and examined it. It was quite wrinkled and smelled a little sour but he had no choice.

Just as he finished dressing, his stomach made it perfectly clear that it was hungry. "Breakfast," he muttered with a little smile on his face. If anything would make this better is some nice hot coffee and some nice comforting food. He checked the time and noted he was only 15 minutes late. "Five more minutes for some coffee won't make much difference," he reasoned.

Trip set off toward the mess hall, walking quickly with his head down hoping his fellow crewmates wouldn't notice his uneven shave and rumple clothing. It didn't help. No sooner had he rounded the corner when he literally ran into Ensign Miller. Now Ensign Miller was a pretty enough girl and quite competent at her job but she talked too much and was unbearably chipper even when he was in a good mood. With his current mood as black as it was there was no telling what he would do to her if she said, "Good morning Commander."

"Morning, Ensign," he grumbled in return.

She giggled, "What happened to your face?"

He turned, "None of your business Ensign, and, by the way, what's so funny?"

"Well, sounds like somebody's got a case of the Mondays."

"Don't you have something important to do?' he growled. He must have scared her because she let out a little chirp of fear and took off in the opposite direction. "Great," he thought, "not only am I having a bad morning but now everybody gonna know it."

Trip entered the mess hall and grabbed coffee and breakfast. He found an empty table near the door and began to eat quickly, determined not to waste anymore time. Intent on his meal, he didn't notice T'Pol approach him. "Commander Tucker, I wish to ask you…"

Trip gave an inward groan, "T'Pol, I really don't have time to explain any, what y'all consider, weird human behavior or vernacular right now. Go ask Dr. Phlox or Hoshi."

"You are unusually brusque this morning," T'Pol observed.

"No, I'm not!" Trip barked. His outburst caused others to look over at their table curiously. He quickly lowered his voice and hissed through clenched teeth, "No that it's any of your business, but I'm 'unusually brusque' because I'm late, I ran out of soap, my razor broke, I don't have a clean uniform, and now everybody's staring at me." With that he jumped up and raced out of the mess hall.

He entered a lift to go to Engineering. The ride started of smoothly enough and then the lift, with a stomach-churning lurch, stopped. Trip started pushing buttons more and more frantically all the while muttering, "No, no, no, this isn't happening, this can't be happening." The lift refused to budge. He started pounding on the door, shouting for help. Finally defeated, he slide to the floor and curled up, sobbing, "Why me! Why?"

A short while later, Trip came to his senses. He lay on the floor of the lift in the fetal position. Realizing how ridiculous he looked he got to his feet. He muttered, "Damn it man, you're a Starfleet officer. Officers do not curl up and cry when things don't go their way. They find a way out."

He popped the lift's escape hatch and climbed the shaft to the nearest exit. He ran to a different lift and took it to Engineering. When the doors opened, who was waiting but Captain Archer, T'Pol and a good portion of the Engineering team.

Archer noted his arrival by commenting, "Ahh Trip, so glad you could join us."

"Sorry I'm late Cap'm, but you wouldn't believe the morning I've had."

"Try me."

"In front of … everybody?" Trip asked, glancing at the nearby crewmen who where making no attempts to conceal their interest.

Archer answered, "Yes, I believe the time and place are appropriate. Please, explain."

Trip felt a wave of heat spread over his face and knew he had just turned as red as a tomato. Nevertheless, he straightened to attention and began. "Well, sir, it was a case of Murphy's Law. First off, I woke up late, not to sure how that happened. Then I ran out of soap, my razor broke, and I couldn't find a clean uniform. I stopped at the mess hall for some coffee, which T'Pol can vouch for. Finally, on the lift here, I got stuck and just kinda lost it. I formally apologize for my lapse and assure you that it will never happen again, Sir."

"I'm sure that it won't. Carry on," Archer replied. He turned to leave. Abruptly, he turned back and said, "By the way, there was a slight computer glitch last night and all the clocks were reset one hour ahead. Instead of being 45 minutes late, you're actually 15 minutes early."

As Captain Archer's words sunk in, Trip sank slowly to the floor. He covered his stubbly face with his hands. Archer, assuming he was upset, knelt beside him and put his hand on Trip's shoulder. "I'm really sorry all those bad things happened to you this morning. We didn't tell you because I thought we could fix it before your shift and didn't see any need to disturb you sooner. Why don't you take a later shift today. At least until you can take a decent shower, shave and find some clean clothes. Ok, Trip?"

Trip uncovered his face and everyone could see he was beside himself with laughter. "Cap'm, for a second there I thought you were going to tell me this whole thing was a practical joke. I must have looked like some kinda idiot coming in here all messed up like I am. I'd be grateful for that shower though."

Archer patted his shoulder, "Very well, Trip, carry on." Archer then left, heading for the bridge.

Within seconds, all crewmen had returned to their posts, the day's excitement over. T'Pol approached Trip, "Commander Tucker, could you enlighten me on one point?"

Trip sighed. After this humiliating experience, he was glad she just wanted to ask him a question and not make some snide remark. "Yes, T'Pol what is it?"

"I would like for you to explain who Mr. Murphy is and exactly what Law it is that is attributed to him."

"Well, it like this," Trip explained as they entered the lift to head to his quarters, "Murphy's Law simply means that no matter how bad things seem, they can, and usually do, get worse.

Finis


End file.
